


As He Saw The Spear Fall

by nauseouma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Freeform, Gen, Gore, Heavy Angst, Hope vs. Despair, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21933310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauseouma/pseuds/nauseouma
Summary: A character with an interesting mind but silent death. What did Komaeda Nagito think about? What was going on inside of him as he lay there, fire consuming every last bit around him, a deadly spear dangling over him so calmly?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	As He Saw The Spear Fall

**Author's Note:**

> unsurprisingly, it was hard to get into character. i think i kinda strayed off a bit in the middle, but nevertheless, enjoy and merry christmas.

What happens if you find yourself stuck in a moral dilemma?

A complicated one with many factors navigating through a complex and seemingly hopeless situation? Obviously finding a way out doesn’t come easy. And if both decisions waiting to be made have their own individual set of massive consequences, what is there to do? Logically, giving up or fighting it has an equal outcome since both lead to an unwanted result. But giving up won't induce any hope.

Komaeda wasn’t someone who liked to turn to people to find out what was the right choice. Their answers were always unsatisfying and obscure. Especially now knowing who those _people_ were, he was even more objected against seeking assistance. The mysterious file in the Fun House spared him enough investigating and speculating. Speaking about that matter, though, he didn’t set himself apart from the others. Apparently, without remembering it, he, too, was at fault for plunging the world into despair. And there was nothing he could look more forward to than atoning for his past failure as a stepping stone for a blissful, marvellous and bright hope achieved by humans who are loved by talent and grace.

But maybe it was his luck that the prize in the Fun House was a file full with essential information only seen by his eyes. The downside to that knowledge was a new-formed responsibility only he was given as he was the sole winner of the Russian roulette game. As long as his luck existed, fate was irrelevant. Coincidences didn’t exist, as well. The only thing Komaeda knew was either luck to his advantage or bad luck to the contrary. The good part about that was his ability of overwriting the absence of hope pushed out by luck by creating a hope, regardless of the circumstances he was in. Taking out the emptiness of spiritual life with his own fantastical imaginations of talent, luck and hope as tangible entities. He was blessed with enthusiasm, blessed with the strive towards a goal he created.

Truly, he was motivated to be of use to everything. A basically empty vessel driven by anything it set its mind to; in his case simple hope. No matter how much Komaeda tried to convince himself of a greater purpose he wasn’t enough for, there was something better than a good talent for someone akin to a lowlife; he already was an extraordinary person. Not in the talent-kinda way. He was just above average in most common characteristics. Which he couldn't even clasp. Someone like him? Laughable.

Why dwell on the past, though? Things had to be achieved and he was the one who could be the beginning of that all. Nothing was too abstract for him, so he was able to know how to handle situations.

But this one? How painful the choice was. Killing everybody but the Future Foundation infiltrator or not doing that and letting the destroyers of the world possibly survive? Factually, latter one was stupid. Komaeda knew all that. But was he able to overlook universal morals and kill? Was he able to betray the classmates that could’ve grown onto him if he didn’t push them away? He’d never know and if he continued to think about that all day and all night, restless, there would be no time to make a choice anymore. Such situation called for a comfort. As always he leaned on hope.

Nobody wants to admit they’re a coward. Komaeda wasn’t so careful with his feelings or even the remains of his ego. He was a coward. And the longer it took him to make a choice the more he worried about irreversible consequences. It was crazy to think an ordinary young man like him was able to erase lives if he wanted to. Not to speak of the scariest part — single-handedly vanishing by his own plan. Komaeda was scared. He was. In order to proceed he had to overcome or overwrite this fear one way or another. How free he was in passing judgement! Everywhere was a choice waiting to be made.

As he passed through life there was so much to decide about — albeit none of those decisions were made by him. It was luck. Horrible old luck. The downside of his quite useful talent was luck itself. He was restrained by invisible chains his whole life because things have only happened out of good luck or bad luck. And as he proceeded to analyse the patterns of this dire and stale luck, he couldn’t stand life’s predictability. _“How boring...”_. Kamukura Izuru must have had the misfortune of acquiring his talent, too. How he pitied him! But ironically, that was probably just _bad luck_ for Kamukura to get Komaeda's talent. Alas, the Ultimate Hope was infected with his talent, as well. It used to give him an almost familiar sting. Komaeda and Kamukura. So different but there’s one thing that haunts both.

~~Luck.~~

Maybe it split the agony then and Kamukura was actually doing him a favour? He couldn't affirm it, howbeit. It was as tedious as it has always been. _Life_ was as tedious as it has always been.

Then to lift the torment of luck off him, he constructed his **hope**. To Komaeda it didn’t matter how real this hope was. As long as it existed, it overshadowed his abhorrent talent, whirling around him and his life, making all decisions and taking the worst and most boring paths life has to offer. He was so fixated on hope. An understatement. He was serving hope and was nothing more than a stepping stone, which in return demanded to eliminate his talent. A talent wasn’t supposed to be a cage. It was supposed to be freedom. A talent was supposed to be the wings of the wearer. He was disgusted to even think about his _talent_ as a talent.

Well enough of that.

It was time to act.

His luck was persistent enough for him to count on it and predict it. No matter what choice he’d make, it’d be the boringly correct one. So he gave in to the heroic calling. All Remnants of Despair, even without the memory or intention of such, would be wiped out. If the traitor from the Future Foundation couldn’t do it, he gladly would help them out.

Making preparations was his strong point. He had to pull it off clever. How convenient is it to obliterate everyone but one person which isn’t oneself? Very, so there was no easy plan. It was his time to shine for hope! Hope would grow stronger if he did the right thing. Because everything was a right thing as long as it increased hope.

The poison looked grim, not gleaming. It made a dull sound when being filled into an empty fire grenade. A total contrast to the thing it’d lead to (hope). Komaeda felt his skin itch in a loathsome way. His body knew this was wrong but he wasn't allowed to listen. His mind was blurred by morals and hope. It pained him, if he was to be honest. Leaving this place as mere servant to an abstract concept that didn’t matter in the end and was just a simple fantasy of his wasn’t exactly his ideal dream of a life. Although dreams weren’t really part of reality for him, were they? Or for anyone, in that respect.

He knew his classmates were previous criminals and antagonists. But thinking about how disturbed and desperate they were searching for the bombs he’d hidden. How tense and uneasy they were feeling before the calamity. They all were ridden into an awful and horrendous future. And soon he’d happily end their suffering. But as the former coward it was his chance to make the first step and be the first one to leave, making them all follow him. He was controlling his own future. Or perhaps it was luck, why fool himself? It wasn’t exactly easy for him. Nevertheless, it was for the good. He allowed himself to be the protagonist. Arrogant. Yes. Effective. Even more.

Lucky him, he was desensitised against pain. Still, it was hard to cut open his thighs and slam his hand onto a knife. Flinging streaks of blood across his pants as he quickly brushed the knife across his thighs, jolting with every gash. At some points, unexpectedly, his eyes felt like they could roll into his head. Pain gnawed at his fresh wounds, being grazed by the cold draft of air rushing through the warehouse. The pool of crimson-red blood, a distinct stench omitting from his right hand impaled by the same knife, wasn't even comparable to what was following up. But as long as it was for hope he’d struggle through it. And yet his eyes became watery, the vision blurry. Writhing, jerking, every slash made him want to stop immediately. Nausea has grabbed him since the beginning, then only consisting of angst, but now the physical discomfort joined. His shallow breaths soon turned his apparently peaceful exterior into something alike a hurt animal, wheezing rough pumps of oxygen against scratching teeth.

As he looked upon the lifted spear, and grunted and heaved and sighed and gasped, he trembled. When was the first time he felt pure doubt. This was hope? His left hand, holding the weight of the card rocked frequently, replacing the tremendous shaking. All he was about to do was so definite. Logically it was hope. But emotionally he only felt despair channelling within his left hand, holding the rope connected to the spear. It was a simple contraction of his muscles deciding upon the lives of all people on the island. To top that off, if he let it go then and there, it suddenly would have lost all meaning and good thought. It would count as suicide. Nobody would die beside him and the world would still be in shambles, now in the presence of the remnants.

But even though fear has started to consume him as he stared at the dangling spear above him, he held on to ... ? It didn’t feel right to hold on to hope. It felt extremely weird. But there was nothing else to hold on to, he remembered. It didn’t matter if it felt right, Komaeda was doing this for hope's sake. It was the safe way, always leaving him fulfilled. It was probably just the panic coming from nearing death. In such a time, it was obviously the wisest to hold on to hope even more. When emotion stopped functioning for him, it has consistently been the logical course of trusting the thing touched by hope, not luck or feeling.

All sounds started to quieten down. His classmates rattling at the door to the warehouse – soothing how muffled it sounded. It was probably the blood loss but he was calming down. While not being able to hear anything outside, his blood was pumping awfully noisy. So noisy his ears gave him the impression of rhythmically wobbling to the surges. As the fire started raging, he only felt warmth surrounding him. Ah, it was almost finished. Good, as he was feeling the uneasiness and skepticism again. He just had to get it over with. The bottle with the poison broke surprisingly loud. But this awakening in some sort only caused him to breathe in deeper and inhale all of the poisonous gas the bottle had started to emit. Sounds decreased quickly. Vision blackened.

**It blackened.**

He didn’t expect a glimmering explosion but he wanted to see a ray of light. Or at least some sort of warm and light colour. But the blackness surrounding him was discouraging. He didn’t expect his end to be that shallow. Not that he had time left to expect. To his pleasure, he didn’t have enough time to feel the pressure of the spear penetrating his body with a massive force. The poison — as planned — got the job done faster.

That told, Komaeda Nagito is no more _(for the foreseeable future)_.

On the bright side, maybe his death in the real world will be a pretty white ray compromised of hope. Blackness is the thing of a computer shutting down. So probably, the real Komaeda Nagito still had _hope_?


End file.
